STRANGERS
by MarRushionerGleek
Summary: David Gaunt is a mysterious insane murder with a terribly tragic past, full of grudges and bitterness against the world. But his insanity beyond since he has a sort of "inner beast" that produces him an irrational bloodlust and induces his heinous acts. His dark days seem to be lighted up by the time he met Charlotte Neilson.
1. Chapter 1 - Previous days

** .:Charlotte:.**

I sighed, for the umpteenth time.

- You finished your homework? - Mom asked, as he finished picking the kitchen.

- Yes, Mom. I've already done.

- Do all?

- All. - I assured her.

- Neither you forget? - She insisted, with her typical soft voice.

- No, Mom. - I said, evenly. - I'm perfectly sure I fulfilled my obligations and, without exception.

She gave me a sweet smile, and nodded.

- Perfect, I believe you. You can then go to your room. You have the afternoon off.

I smiled too, and left the kitchen.

I went up again the extensive stairs, embroidered crimson brown carpeting; a fine piece.

I got to my room, and I lay down on my bed, double size, with soft duvets beige & blue cake. It was a combination that, according to my mother and some, was elegant and graceful for a girl of my age.

Honestly, I had chosen it because those are my two favorite colors, and because I liked the design.

But anyway...

In my 17 years, I could tell that I had a normal, peaceful life. Never had conflicts. I was obedient and I got along with my parents.

My mother, Carolyn Neilson, was the sweetest and caring woman I had met. She was very beautiful, and also charming. No wonder at all dad would love her that way.

He, my father, Peter Neilson, was an amiable man, a gentleman and a very nice person. He worked as a doctor at the main hospital in Clairmont, where we lived. And not to mention how attentive he could be.

They were simply the best parents I could ask for.

And ... What can I say about my younger brother, Ryan?

We fought occasionally, like any pair of brothers, but nothing more. We got along well, actually.

He was two years younger than me. I was about to meet in a few months to 18 years, while he had just turned 16.

The winter season was starting, so I curled up under the covers of my warm bed, I took my book and started reading. It was cold and I did not feel like going out.

And, happily, the holiday season approaching.

I loved these dates. They were my favorite of the year, by far. I was one of the girls who prefer cold to heat, a rich hot toddy to freezing ice-cream, warm and harmonious family dinner instead a day by the sun burning you at a spa.

* * *

** .:David:.**

Ah, another tiring day! And this bar reeked of humanity.

I didn't understand why I just kept frequenting so crowded places, even when I could not stand people. Especially those nasty drunk thugs.

I left the place without even drinking something. This time I lasted longer: ten long minutes in that hellish and putrid place. Yuck!

People could become truly despicable.

But who _I_ was, precisely, to judge? Exactly, the least likely.

I walked the cold streets of Clairmont. The frost adorned buildings, people wore heavy coats, hats, scarves and gloves. The whole city was filled by the endless lights, ornaments, figurines and Christmas ditties of the time.

Just wondering: who would be the next victim?

It was a thirst ... unbearable thirst for blood.

I was freaking, but also, I was fascinated.

I was a _hunter_; yes, that you could say I was: a _hunter_.

And now, the hunter wonders who will be his next prey.

So many people, so many nefarious bastards, so many miserable wretches, disgusting perverts, liars, dishonest, arrogant. All a mass of disaster, such as wastes of the planet.

They made me sick, and cried to myself to do it. Just by seeing them, I knew, I knew who deserved to die. And, I did.

At first, as a boost; now, as a necessity ... as a _sport_? No, those things don't instill such passion as that caused me to kill. It was ... I don't know ... feels so satisfying...

I walked, staring at nothing, with my hands in the pockets of his black coat I wore. Walked, and people (in small numbers) just walked beside me.

And I saw him, I saw the idiot who I would end his putrid days.

A poor helpless child, homeless, walking with a scant half gnawed and old sweater, torn shorts with broken shoes. A little hobo boy not more than six or seven years old. The kid walked heavily, looking pleadingly, begging with his frozen hands trembling, a dime to eat.

And the jerk just yelled: "Get off the way, children", threatening gesture.

That's what sparked my anger which aroused the beast that was in me, and it consumed me whenever it wanted. What caused tremors in my body incessant fury and adrenaline.

And, without thinking, almost as a reflex, my hand dropped to my pocket, patting meekly the sharp knife which always accompanied me.

I walked toward him, feeling like burning.

I pushed the bastard, raging against the wall of a cold and empty dark alley, taking him firmly by the collar of his elegant gray coat and fine material of course.

And so I acted.


	2. Chapter 2 - Murders

_Chapter 2__ -__Muerders_

.:**Charlotte:.**

My father was reading the newspaper, with a quite alarmed gesture.

- What is it, darling? – said my mother, approaching to read too.

- They have just found a dead man in a city alley. – He murmured, with a hint of horror in his always serene voice. – It says that he had been stabbed six times on the chest and stomach.

We three were looking at him with horror, listening to the tragic story.

- Oh, God! – My mom whispered. – Poor man! What would happen to his family?

- Was there any witness? Do they know who did it? – I asked with anguished curiosity.

- No. – My father said. – Seems that anybody saw it. They just found him there laid on the floor.

There was a tense silence in the room. Nobody added anything for a couple of seconds.

Then, Mom spoke again.

- Who could be so heartless to assassin someone melee? – She murmured, horrified.

- I don't know, darling. But, oddly monstrous, we must learn to live with _that_ kind of people. – Dad said, a sad smile.

Mom was always that sweet, she cared each dead (even animal's), sometimes up to cry. And, we respected that. She was pretty emotional and loving, and that's the way we all loved her.

- Don't worry, Ma. It's ok. – cheered Ryan, patting gently her shoulder.

- No, dear; I am concerned. This is getting too big. There are already some other dead people. I do not want to risk you too. – She said, hiding her face in her hands, like if she was about to cry.

- You're right, honey. But anything will happen to us. I promise. We'll be safe, and I'll take care of that. – said Dad, comfort mode.

She nodded, still fearful.

* * *

.:**David**:.

I walked careless to my department. I felt… satisfied. For now.

I had killed that wretch; I stabbed him with my jackknife six times (one for each year of the little boy), and I had left him lying there. Sure, what else would I've done?

When getting away the body and turning around to leave, I noticed the kid's presence. He was staring at me, trembling, from the entrance of the alley, watching the scene with fear and some respect.

I smiled at him, showing teeth, and I walked slowly towards him (pretending not to scare him… much). I bent down, so I became his tiny height. He didn't even move, but his hesitant frightened expression didn't changed.

- Calm down. – I told him, still smirking. – That jerk wouldn't hurt you again. – And I took out my wallet, taking a couple of bills of what I had. Perhaps they completed 10 or 15 dollars. – Take this. – I murmured, handing out the cash. He took it with his shaking little hand, hesitating a bit. – Get something to eat, and look for a warm place. Oh! And if they ask, remember you never saw me. Ok?

The young child nodded, a fade smile.

- Tha-Thanks, s-sir. – He said, before running away.

I smiled, then I was back to take my path.

I was coming to my apartment building, I decided to take a short cut, cutting down the main street and leading to one side of the city.

It grew dark and the streetlights began to turn on slowly, shinning behind the fog.

I walked down the street, quietly, when I discovered a small problem which I had not noticed. There was _movement_ at the next corner, more specifically, _whores_. That caused me ... so much repulsion...

I sighed, with some irritation. But I was already half a block. No way to turn around and go back to where I had come.

I had then to continue walking...


End file.
